


denial

by crunchrapsupreme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean never thought being bed ridden with a nasty cold would cause a chain of events that ended up with his best friend going down on him, but he's not really complaining. Besides, Marco is surprisingly fantastic with his tongue, and Jean's pretty sure if cold medicine can't cure his cough, this <i>definitely</i> can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	denial

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 7 of my 30 day drabble challenge over on [my tumblr!](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com/post/72508091260/7-denial-jean-marco-highschool-au)

The first thing Jean notices when he opens his eyes is the fresh glass of water on his nightstand, condensation heavy on the cup but still ridden with ice cubes, so it must still be pretty new. He contemplates being scared that someone broke into his fucking house for a brief ( _very_  brief) moment before he decides a) he feels too much like shit to care, and b) he can hear the clanging of various metal items in his kitchen followed by the rare, reluctantly spoken curse words of Marco fucking Bodt.. Also, why the hell would a robber steal his shit while also placing a nice, cold glass of water next to a sleeping cold-ridden teenage boy?

Jean briefly wonders why the hell Marco isn’t at  _school_ , but when he turns to his clock on the nightstand, he sees it’s almost 4pm. Jean runs a hand through his hair and half sits up, internally groaning because he didn’t think he had slept that long, god  _damn_. He had woken up this morning, face planted the floor as he attempted to make his way to the shower, and almost barreled into his mother as a bout of dizziness struck him. She took one look at him before ushering him back into bed, shoving some artificially flavored grape cold medicine down his throat, and handing him a wad of tissues before heading off to work herself.

He rubs his eyes again, remembering how he had had a brief coughing fit, blew his nose about twenty times, before finally passing out again and sleeping until, well,  _now_. And he’s almost ninety percent sure the only reason he woke up was from the commotion going on in the kitchen, because his eyelids still feel heavy and he’s sure that if he lied back down he could probably fall asleep again.

He doesn’t get the chance to though, because right as he’s lowering his glass of water after chugging almost all of it in one go, Marco appears in the doorway of his room, out of breath but grin still present on his face.

“Jean, you’re awake!”

Jean just murmurs something in reply before flopping back against the pillows, sniffling pathetically. Marco’s eyes grow fond, and he walks fully into the room, taking a seat next to Jean on his bed.

“How’re you feeling?”

Jean wrinkles his nose and sniffles again. “How’d you know I was sick, anyways?”

Marco chuckles a bit. “I came over to yell at you for skipping school, figured you just watched Teen Wolf and slept all day since you weren’t answering my texts, but then I broke into your house and found a half empty bottle of cough syrup and a trashcan full of used tissues next to a miserable looking sleeping body.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “'Broke into my house' my ass. You know where the goddamned spare key is.”

Marco just grins again. “Breaking in makes me sound cooler.”

“You’re  _not_  cool, though,” Jean replies, and Marco leans towards him a bit, lips still quirked in a smile.

“I’m  _so_  cool.”

Jean can’t help the twitch of his own lips, but before he can say anything, he whips his head to the side to sneeze, coughing a few short times afterwards and blindly grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand, taking a few slow sips. He makes a face as he sets the drink back down, leaning back against the headboard and blinking slowly, groaning quietly before muttering,

“I feel like absolute  _shit_.”

Marco frowns in sympathy. “Sorry. I was going to make you soup or something, but, uh.” He rubs the back of his neck as a smile makes it’s way back onto his face. “You know I can’t cook.”

Jean just huffs out a short, raspy laugh, and when he runs a hand through his hair again, he pauses and flushes. “Fuck, I probably  _look_  like shit too.”

He’s usually not to concerned with how he looks when he’s around Marco, but ever since they started - well,  _dating_  isn’t really the right word. Maybe it is. Jean doesn’t really know. A late night a few weeks ago, a few beers, and at least two blowjobs confirmed that yeah, him and Marco were a  _little_  bit more than friends, and though Jean isn’t opposed to actual commitment, he sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to ask. What if Marco just wants a friends with benefits? (Although Jean’s almost one hundred percent sure Marco is all for official titles. But still. Jean’s content with the weird back and forth game they have going on now, because Marco’s mouth makes him fall apart and he’s completely okay with that.)

A hand on his knee makes him look up, and Marco smiles at him again. “You don’t look like shit.”

Jean just scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Dude, I’m bed ridden with  _sickness_. I bet my face is all gross and red and…. and my hair is sticking up and my eyes are puffy and - ”

“You  _don’t_  look like shit,” Marco repeats, and then his own cheeks turn slightly red as he bites his lip. “Trust me.”

Jean swallows, letting out a tiny cough as he twiddles his fingers, trying not to pay attention to the warm, heavy hand still gripping his knee. “So, uh. What did I miss in class today?”

Marco shrugs, drums his fingers a bit on Jean’s leg, and if Jean isn’t mistaken, Marco’s hand has slid a fraction up his thigh. “Not much. We had a lab in Chem and we did peer reviews in AP Psych. Nothing too exciting.”

Jean makes a face. “Gross. I hate peer reviewing.”

Marco smiles and when he scoots closer, Jean swallows around the sudden dryness in his throat. Marco’s looking at him with these weirdly fond eyes and Jean tries not to be embarrassed under the gaze, but he’s going to be honest right now because he  _does_  feel like shit and he’s not sure how he feels about Marco seeing him feel ( _and_  look) like shit. They’ve been friends for as long as Jean can remember, but now that they’ve seen each other’s orgasm faces, things are a  _little_  bit different.

Jean turns red in the face at the thought, and Marco seems to notice because the next thing Jean knows, he’s being gently tugged forward until he’s slumping back down on the bed, Marco looming over him, one hand on Jean’s shoulder and the other gripping the sheets next to Jean’s head.

“Um,” Jean says, swallowing audibly as he stares up into Marco’s eyes, his body shadowing him, and when Marco leans his face closer, Jean bites his lips and turns his head slightly to the left. “You’re… you’re going to get sick, dumbass.”

His voice wavers, and Marco doesn’t respond, just leans down further until his lips can latch onto Jean’s neck, right at the sensitive spot below his ear, and Jean makes an embarrassing noise as his body twitches slightly. Marco does something amazing with his tongue, dragging it in a slow circle and then trailing his lips down until his head is buried into the crook of Jean’s neck, skin already warm with body heat and lust.

“Marco…” Jean trails off, breath hitching, and he sniffles slightly when he feels Marco tug the covers down. He shivers and glares slightly at Marco, who smiles a bit at Jean’s Teen Titan’s boxers, and the other teen flushes and half-sits up on his elbows. “Don’t laugh at my choice in undergarments, asshole.”

“I’m not laughing,” Marco says, smiling a bit more as he grabs Jean’s ankles and tugs him roughly, making Jean yelp and fall back on the bed again. Marco grips his hips, leans down until their noses are touching, and Jean bites his lip.

“Marco, I don’t… I don’t want you to get sick, you idiot, we can’t…”

“I don’t need your mouth to make you feel good, Kirchstein.”

When Marco flips him over so he’s face down on the bed, Jean blinks at his position now buried into the pillows, but when he opens his mouth to speak, he stops abruptly as he feels Marco hook his thumbs in the waistband of Jean’s boxers, slowly beginning to tug them down.

And Jean knows what he’s doing, sort of, but he still stutters out a quick, “Marco, what - ”

“Don’t worry. It’ll make you feel better, since I can’t cook you soup.”

Jean snorts softly. “You can’t cook me soup so you’re going to fuck me instead?”

“Who said anything about fucking?”

There’s a teasing tone in Marco’s voice, and Jean furrows his eyebrows, but then his boxers are being tossed to the side, and two strong, calloused hands are gripping his ass, a single thumb dipping in and pressing against his hole. Jean lets out a shaky breath and presses his forehead into his arms, trying not to arch back into the touch.

And then Marco darts out a tongue and licks a long stripe up, fingers squeezing his cheeks to spread them slightly apart, and Jean just about chokes on his tongue as a fire alights inside of his stomach, his cock hardening almost embarrassingly fast, and  _shit_ , he’s read about this, he’s… he’s watched porn of this shit but he never really thought about it being done to him, holy  _fuck_.

Marco pulls back, thumbs still digging into Jean’s skin, and when he lets out a breath, Jean’s whole body jolts.

“You good?” Marco says, and there’s a hint of laughter in there that makes Jean frown and twist his neck back so he can glare at him. Marco raises an eyebrow in response, and when he blows deliberately against Jean’s hole, the other teen chokes on a squeak and twitches again. He really was only expecting a handjob, or a blowjob if he was lucky, so having Marco so willingly getting into his business like this and Marco’s eyes so dark and possessive is really turning Jean’s hormones inside out.

“Marco,” Jean manages again, and he doesn’t really know what he wants to say, or what he wants to ask for, but he likes the way the other boy’s name feels in his mouth, so he says it again, though this time slightly more encouraging, “ _Marco_.”

“Hm?” Marco hums out, sinking his teeth gently into the skin of Jean’s left ass cheek, and Jean coughs gently into his folded arms, limbs weak and fatigued from the sickness, and really, he’s pretty content with letting Marco do whatever the hell he wants, and he tries to portray that thought without actually voicing it by rolling his hips hesitantly, until Marco’s lips are grazing his entrance again, and Jean doesn’t want to  _beg_ , but Marco better do something fast because Jean’s level of control is quickly crumbling away, even faster than normal in his half-alert state.

“What d’you want me to do?” Marco asks quietly, and Jean internally groans, because there’s no way in hell he can tell Marco exactly  _where_  he wants that tongue to go without having an aneurysm from embarrassment. Also, he’ll probably never be able to look Marco in the eyes again, fuck.

“Are you actually going to… make me  _say_  it?” Jean replies, exasperated but still incredibly turned on, especially when Marco licks over his previous bite marks apologetically, causing Jean to shiver.

“Wanna hear you say it,” Marco mumbles, leaning up slightly to press a kiss to Jean’s lower back, right above his ass, and Jean sighs, but stays defiantly silent. He can feel Marco’s lips quirk up against him as the boy continues, “C’mon. What do you want?”

“I - I don’t know,  _fuck_ ,” Jean grumbles, grinding into the bed slightly and sighing shakily at the friction against his flushed cock. When he makes to roll his hips against the mattress again, Marco reaches out and grips his hips in an iron hold, preventing Jean from wiggling anywhere, and the other teen groans out loud in frustration. “ _Marco_.”

“ _Jean_ ,” Marco teases back, and Jean heaves out a long sigh, shoving his face in the mattress once more as he mumbles out a quiet,

“I want you to….” Jean swallows, cheeks heating up. “You  _know_.”

“No, I’m not sure I’m following you,” Marco replies, faux confusion in his voice, because under it all Jean can hear him smirking, and  _god_  he hates this boy so fucking much.

“I’m going to kick you in the face,” Jean grumbles, hips twitching when Marco presses his lips closer again. “I’m going to roll over and kick you so hard in the head you won’t even remember this conversation.”

Marco chuckles quietly, his breath warm against Jean’s skin, and whispers, “How about I tongue-fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name?”

Jean freezes, blinking rapidly, because  _fuck_ , he’s never heard Marco talk like that before, and it’s going straight to his neglected cock. He shivers, presses his face harder into the mattress and mutters out a slightly pathetic, “ _Please_.”

“There we go,” Marco says again, quiet and fucking sensual and Jean didn’t even  _know_  Marco could sound like this. It’s weird and strange but strangely appealing and Jean never knew he was one for dirty talk but hearing those words come from Marco’s own mouth is sending some sort of signal to his groin, and when he tries to roll his hips down again, Marco lets him, but not before sliding his hands back down to spread Jean open again and blow over his hole.

Jean jerks, and he lets out a quiet sigh when Marco licks him again, spreading him open wider and swirling a tongue languidly around his entrance, and when Jean feels Marco start to push inside, he can’t help the quiet, sated moan that slips out. Marco just hums in response, pushing in deeper, and Jean shivers from his head to his toes, curling his fingers in his own hair and tugging gently.

“Fuck,” Jean breathes out, because he’s never had a goddamned tongue in his ass, but the feeling isn’t entirely unpleasant. In fact, it’s actually pretty fucking awesome, and when Marco stiffens his tongue and prods deliberately, Jean breathes out sharply through his nose. “Ah -  _shit_.”

Marco makes an obscene slurping noise, gathering more saliva, and it should be gross, but it’s  _not_ , and Jean gasps when Marco wiggles a finger in next to his tongue, slipping in easily and curling it and prodding around for a few seconds until he finds Jean’s prostate, and Jean’s whole body seizes up, toes curling and knees automatically squeezing together.

“Goddamn - shit,  _fuck_ ,” Jean manages, and Marco laughs as he uses his free hand to pry Jean’s legs back open, the movement causes the bed sheets to rub against Jean’s dick, and the teen lets out a long, low moan, before suddenly twitching and flinging an arm over to the nightstand to grab a handful of tissues.

Marco lifts his head up, but keeps his finger in Jean’s ass, watching with amusement and slight fondness as Jean tries to discreetly sneeze into the tissues before blowing his nose loudly. Jean flops back on the bed a moment later, cheeks heating up as he mutters a quiet,

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Marco laughs, biting his lip and curling his finger again, causing Jean to yelp and buck his hips back onto Marco’s hand. “I’m about to stick my tongue in your ass, I have no room to laugh at your sickness.”

Jean flushes and buries his face again, mumbling a quiet protest that goes past Marco’s ears as the other teen ducks back down again, going back to work at opening Jean up and doing nasty things with his tongue that should probably be illegal.

“Nnng,  _fuck_ ,” Jean groans again, curling his fingers into fists and breathing out shakily through his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut, and when Marco pulls away again, Jean can’t help the groan of disappointment. “C’mon, don’t be a _t-_ _tease_.”

Marco bites his lip on a smirk and removes his finger, using both hands to spread Jean’s cheeks again, but stays still, mouth hovering just above where Jean wants it most, and when Jean tries to rut his hips against the sheets for some release, Marco holds him still again, wrapping an arm around his waist and using his other hand to dig sharp fingers into Jean’s upper thigh.

“Stay still,” Marco says, voice low, and there’s an air of dominance in his voice that Jean has never heard before, and the shift in the air makes Jean swallow audibly. He wants so badly to see Marco’s face, see his eyes lidded and dark and piercing, but he’s afraid if he turns his head back to look, he might just lose it right then, and he at least wants to execute  _some_  of his stamina.

The silence eats away at Jean’s patience, but he obeys, stilling his movements until Marco hums in approval before dipping back down between Jean’s cheeks again, this time without any fingers, just his goddamned sinful tongue and as he pushes in as far as he can go, the tip of his tongue flicking devilishly and quick, Jean’s thighs quiver and he wonders briefly if he can come just from this, holy  _shit_.

“Marco, Marco, Marco _marco_ _marco_ ,” Jean gets out quietly, and he doesn’t even notice his ongoing chant of a certain boy’s name because his cock is leaking precome and he wants to rock his hips back into Marco’s mouth, and he never knew a tongue in his ass could make him feel so vulnerable and turned on and  _submissive_ , or whatever this fucking feeling is of him wanting to reach up, grip the headboard, and bare himself for the boy currently settled behind him.

He also notices that his headache and general gross feeling of sickness has faded slightly too, either because he’s distracted or because the pressure in his lower abdomen is ultimately more satisfying than any pressure in his forehead or nasal cavity, and Jean finally lets out a loud whine, his body trembling with the effort to keep still.

“ _C’mon_ ,” Jean manages to get out, voice hitching audibly. “Can you just…”

Marco ignores him aside from an encouraging hum, and he releases one of Jean’s hips before slipping his hand beneath the other boy to grip his dick at the base, flushed and leaking, and Jean cries out in surprise, squeezing his eyes shut as Marco holds him off from release yet again.

“Marco, please,” Jean whispers pathetically, and he’s too far gone to care about his dignity at the moment, too caught up in the daze of  _Marco_  and his goddamned mouth and the goosebumps that rise on his skin when Marco breathes out sharply through his nose.

Marco eventually pulls off one last time, a string of spit following his lips, and says, “Please  _what_? What do you want, Jean?”

His voice is soft, and oddly condescending, but Jean doesn’t even fucking  _care_  anymore, and his response is spilling off his tongue before he can even think about what he’s saying,

“ _Please let me come_.”

His voice comes out raspy and thick, followed by a pathetic cough, and it’s silent for a moment before Marco ducks back down, spreading him back open, and Jean practically sobs with relief when the hand wrapped around his cock starts stroking up and down sloppily, the angle awkward but still so, so  _good_.

It definitely doesn’t take Jean too long to release, and he normally would be embarrassed, but it feels so fucking good he swears he almost screams (or as much as he can scream with a sore throat and stuffy nose), and by the time he’s come back down from post-coital bliss, Marco is draped across his back, chin digging into his shoulder blade and one hand running through Jean’s sweat damp locks.

“Feel better?” Marco asks cheerily.

“Mm,” Jean mumbles, sniffling again and turning his head so his cheek is pressed against the bed, and Marco leans down and presses a kiss to his temple before rolling off and standing back up, making a face at the mess when Jean rolls over so he’s face-up again.

“Let’s get you in the shower,” Marco says fondly, holding out a hand to tug Jean into a standing position. “Also, the steam will help clear your sinuses, okay?”

Jean rubs a palm over his face before taking Marco’s outstretched hand and shakily standing up, legs still jelly-like and head swimming with light headedness (from the sex or from the sickness, Jean couldn’t really say.)

“You gonna join me, Bodt?” Jean mutters, cheeks flushing a tad bit at the request even though Marco literally just  _ate him out_. He feels weird being embarrassed  _now_  out of all times, but Marco just grins and weaves their fingers together, giving a quick nod, and if Jean isn’t mistaken, there’s a blush rising on the other teen’s cheeks also.  

Jean clears his throat, sniffling one more time, and when Marco helpfully tugs them both towards the bathroom, Jean excitedly follows, and Jean doesn’t really know  _what_  they have going on yet, what they are or what Marco wants them to be, but for right now, it doesn’t matter, because Marco’s fingers are gripping his own, tight and secure, and Jean wouldn’t change a thing.


End file.
